Can't Find You
by PercabethSkyewardClace13ore
Summary: Skyeward one-shot. Basically, Skye has a nightmare. I know everyone's done something like this, but I wanted to give it a go. And this is how I am here now. Rated T for creepy old men.


**A/N: This is a one-shot I thought I'd keep you guys happy with as I continue with most of my multi-chapter fics. Hopefully on August 30th, (on the same day) I will have seven new stories up, and have added a new chapter to each of my existing ones. Sorry for the deadline, but Fanfiction, combined with the disability of using only one hand, is starting to lower my grades, and mom will kill my account and lock me up in the house to study all summer. Not kidding.**

Well, it's nice too see you again, even if you are dead.

When you turned and ran in the cold. When all our happiness was taken with you.

My hopes, the team's hopes, all gone, taken by bandits of mistrust, dishonesty, all beings of pure evil.

You wore the same mission gear, like the one you wore in the mission where you got attacked by Centipede supersoldiers, and were totally jealous of Mike Peterson.

Don't even try deny it, you were, and even your dead face makes an face of argument in your defense.

Then, my thoughts and memories dragged into reality,and as I look at you, as if by some horrible dark magic, your body turns to a thick dust powder that moves of its own accord, peacefully drifting, until it confines itself to a form that looks like Simmons had a twin, and then, one by one, it changes into the team.

Then eventually, a shallow, old, crinkled man, whose skin's dire need for moisturiser could not be put into words, sidles up to my right, then goes behind me, now he can't see my face, and vice versa with his repellent one. He looks like a ghast and a Spindler had a bun in the oven on his face, then tubers of baby puke left over teamed up with white mushrooms to form this skin tone. He rasps into my ear, in Grant's voice, "Skye, what have you done?"

And I wake up. My choked breath starts again at an irregular pace as I let a strangled half sob escape. I need comfort, but I'm not in luck or in stock.

Tea.

The thought flashes in my head, but then I remember Simmons saying that it helped with her nightmares. Well, now she has Fitz to ward off her nightmares, (incidentally making me $50 richer, thank you very much) but I think there's still an unopened box of relaxing herbal tea, that's not her usual English Breakfast (which she has any time of day, which really contradicts the name), so I sigh, and sit up, ignoring the brief dizziness that accompanies getting up so quickly after having a nightmare.

I pull back the covers, and swing my legs out the bed to the floor. I open the bunk door, and I shut it quietly. No doubt everyone would be asleep. I mean, since Coulson's gone, everything has been hectic.

Fitz eventually passed out from exhaustion, so we all agreed to rest for twelve hours. That surprisingly included May. I seemed to be temporary leader in Coulson's stead, but everyone else on this plane was on the same page, and more importantly, on the same team.

I padded out. I checked on Ward's bunk, but he wasn't there.

A voice sounds in my ear. "What are you doing here?" I jump, and I'm too terrified to scream, because the scene reminds me so much of my nightmare.

I start to panic, thinking of the creepy (to say the least) man in my nightmare.

I think I pass out from lack of oxygen, because next thing I know, Ward is brushing my hair out of my face, looking like a car ran over his dog.

I blink tears from my eyes.

His face lights up as he sees my newly reupdated state of consciousness. "Skye! You're awake! One more minute, and I'd have gone for Simmons."His smile's so big you'd have thought he'd have won the lottery. "Please don't. She needs her sleep." I try and sit up, but Ward gently pushes me back down.

I notice the soft surface beneath me. "Thanks for moving me to the couch," I say, pretty drained. "Why'd you pass out?" he asked. I'm not in the mood to lie. "I had a nightmare where you died, then you turned into white powder, then into the team, and then this creepy old Dracula-type dude comes and asks me in a raspy voice, but still in your voice, 'Skye, what have you done?' Then you pretty much did the exact same thing, so I panicked. That is the story."

He kisses my forehead, so he must be as sleepy as I am, because GRANT WARD would never do that normally. But even as I think these thoughts, little butterflies decide to have a heavy metal concert in my tummy, because I freaking like like Grant Douglas Ward, and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

"Sorry for freaking you out," he says, and I give a hint of a smile. "Want to watch a movie?" I ask, knowing even then the answer. He surprises me, though. "Yes. Not a chick flick, please!" And I know just the movie.

I pop it in, return to the sofa, and cuddle into his side. He wraps his arm around me, and I feel fireworks go off inside of me. 50 minutes into Pacific Rim, I fell asleep.

I am woken with a mouth on mine. My eyes flash open in surpise, and I see Grant's scared ones stare into mine for a second, and we stop osculating.

Before he can get off the couch, I pull him to me, and crush his lips to mine. I melt into the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck. We break for oxygen, and as I stare into his eyes, I don't mean to say it, it just slips out my mouth like an escaping prisoner, but the moment I say it, I know its true.

"I love you, Grant."

He hesitates for a moment, but I finally hear something that will stay in my mind for the rest of my life. "Good. Because I love you too." And roughly presses his lips to mine.


End file.
